by TJ Hamilton
“I ordered us a bucket of prawns for a starter. Did you know that everything here comes in a bucket! What a great idea… Now I get the whole ‘Bucket List’ thing.” Tom says as he plonks himself down rather brutally in front of me,
“They even do buckets of beers! What a great idea.” He continues.
I look across at the other tables outside and notice the brightly coloured mini buckets, filled with bottles of beer. The buckets trigger my mind to be drawn back again to the memory of my weekend with Joe Tench. I start to feel a knot form in my stomach as my emotions are pulled between anger, hurt and confusion. Why am I still reeling with emotions over Tench? Aaargh… I should be stronger than this! This just doesn’t feel right to be still thinking of Tench.
“Miranda… Are you still with me?” I realise that the gorgeous Tom is still talking to me while my mind drifted back to Tench.
“Yeah. Sorry Tom. I just remembered that I have to organise someone to feed my cat.” I lie.
“Did you want to quickly go and do it now? You said you lived nearby. Well… not that I know that.” Tom winks at me with the last statement. My heart melts under his charm.
“No that’s fine. I’m home tomorrow. She will be fine.”
“So Miranda. I know you live near Bondi and I know you have a cat. What else am I to find out about you tonight?” Tom’s cheeky smile causes me to flush feverishly out of control.
“It’s alright. I’m just joking. Your secrets are safe with me.”
I pour myself a glass of sangria from the pitcher and avoid all eye contact. I can’t believe that I am so open with this client!
“Well seeing as you seem to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” I try to change the subject quickly,
“Tell me about what you intend to do now that you’re back in Australia.”
“I’m not sure yet really. I still feel a bit lost to be honest. You think you have your life all planned out and then suddenly it’s all ripped away from you. I… I just don’t know what to do or where to start really. I found myself just wandering around in circles around my old apartment in London, so that’s why I decided to ship myself back to Australia. I had to get away. Start again. See new places and unfamiliar faces.”
I look down at my glass, the realisation of Tom’s pain more apparent than I realised or cared to understand before. I catch his eyes staring at me and I smile weakly.
“What was her name?” I ask, hoping that his sincerity is because he wants to share his pain with me.
“Sarah.” He smiles his intoxicating smile at me. I can’t help but reciprocate my smile in return. I feel so comfortable around this beautiful, caring man. I want more of him. I want someone like him as a boyfriend. Why do I want a boyfriend? I’m a prostitute! And who would have me?
“I bet she was beautiful.”
“Yes. Very much so.”
A waiter places two yellow pales, one bursting with bright red tiger prawns and the other empty. The arrogant waiter quickly turns on his heel without saying a word to us. Tom smiles softly while reaching over for a prawn, breaking the head from its body and places the unwanted head in the empty bucket. I too grab a prawn and do the same. Tom places his hand on mine as I grab a prawn from the bucket. A butterfly flaps vehemently in the pit of my stomach as I feel his skin brush against mine only for the third time since meeting him.
“Thank you.” His handsome eyes smoulder every rational thought inside my head.
I want you so bad Tom Smythe, I’m screaming inside. I want to just hold you and tell you that everything is going to be all right. Why did I have to meet you through my capacity as a prostitute Tom Smythe? I guess this is what he wanted. Some company for the night. If it weren’t me who met him, then he would have just ordered one of the other girls at the Agency. I’m glad he chose me. I hate to think what Paris or Sally would be like with someone like Tom.
We finish the entire bucket of prawns and eat our way through two delicious fish burgers. Our conversations have gone from what music we both love to what sports we watch. I find more and more similarities with Tom as our conversation continues and evolves. Tom reminds me a lot of my twin brother and for this reason, I am glad that I chose to do this booking, despite my original objections. For once I find myself laughing at Tom’s bad attempts at jokes. For a brief moment I actually forget that I’m even on a booking with a client. As the candlelight continues to cast shadows across Tom’s face, I notice for the first time that he has a prominent scar running across his nose from his bridge all the way down to the tip. I wonder what happened to him. A mild imperfection that seems almost trivial on an immaculate face. On any other person it would almost be a disfigurement, but on Tom it only adds to the hurt that I know lies deep behind those troubled blue eyes. Our conversation flows easily even though it feels as if time has come to a standstill.
“Well I think I’ll definitely come back here Miranda. It’s a great concept and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed getting out. I don’t know if I’ll be able to match the beautiful company that you have given me tonight though.” He gulps the remainder of the Sangria punch. That completes the fourth pitcher between us for the evening,
“So I’ll just have to book you again I think.” He winks again at me. What… no suggestion that he wants to see me out side of work? That’s a change… and a shame. The sense of familiarity around him causes me to drop my guard a little again.
“You know, you remind me of my brother.” I can’t believe I’ve just said that.
“Really? Must be a top guy. Shall we head back?” He surprisingly changes the subject. It makes me feel better about disclosing so much of myself to him in one night. Information that Tench and other clients beg to pry from me during every booking. I nod at Tom. He rises from his seat and holds out his hand to assist me up. After the four pitchers of Sangria I’m grateful for the help, an apparent groggy feeling washing over me as soon as I stand. Tom continues to hold my hand in his own as we stroll back along the beachfront toward his penthouse. The cool air wafts off the ocean and disguises the heat of my skin as it frostily wraps around me. I thoroughly enjoy the moment of holding Tom’s strong hand. Although remnants of my weekend with Joe Tench still manage to tug at the back of my mind.
“Would you like another drink?” Tom asks as we stroll into his penthouse.
“Actually. I don’t think I can drink another drop of alcohol right now.” I yawn forcefully and I slump into the soft couch in the open lounge room.
I feel my eyes start to become heavy as I find comfort in the soft cushions of the chocolate coloured leather surrounding me. I hear Tom in the kitchen and feel myself drift into a welcoming slumber. I vaguely feel the weightlessness of being lifted off the couch, and hazily recognise Tom’s solid embrace around me but my consciousness drifts back into my happy place.
The warm sun and distant sound of the ocean grows increasingly recognisable as my awareness finally pulls me from my alcohol-induced drowse. I realise that I have slept soundly all night. Peeling one eye open at a time, I glaze sideways from my pillow. My head tries to focus on anything around the room to indicate where I am. Hotel rooms all start to blur into one another in this job, and often I have to remind myself exactly where I am, and whom I’m with whenever I first wake up. I roll over to see Tom Smythe’s beautiful face serenely lying next to me. He too is just stirring from his slumber. His dreamy eyes focus on me and his gorgeous smile instantly shines brighter than the sun beaming outside. Ah… now that’s something delightful to wake up to! I remember that I’m in the same bed as one of the most handsome men I’ve ever lay my eyes on. What a welcome sight you are this morning Tom Smythe. I could definitely wake up to this every morning.
“You look happy this morning.” I state the obvious.
Oh shit! It dawns on me that I don’t remember even getting to bed last night. I lift the covers to see that I am wearing an unfamiliar t-shirt with just my underwear. I snap the covers back down and real
ise that Tom has undressed me and redressed me into one of his t-shirts. All the while I was in a complete coma!
“I slept all night for the first time in a long time.” Tom seems rather impressed with himself.
I on the other hand, am annoyed at the fact that I let my guard down so much that I allowed myself to get drunk and pass out. Then to let a man touch me without any form of control over myself!
“You didn’t drug me last night by any chance did you?” I’m far from jovial in my questioning and Tom can tell.
“Miranda! You’re not serious are you?” He sits up abruptly and frowns down at me.
I realise that I’m being completely ridiculous and insensitive.
“No. Of course not. I just don’t normally…” I try and search for some reason for my inexcusable state last night. It must be a mixture of the past weekend and the lack of sleep I had with Joe Tench, and the fact that I am just so comfortable with Tom. Combining that with a larger than usual consumption of alcohol… Oh four pitchers of Sangria! Oh dear!
“It’s alright… Me either.” Tom lies back down, in a supine position toward the ceiling.
I feel ashamed that I ignored his feelings completely and roll over to face him.
“So I gather you got an impromptu peep show last night when I decided to laps into a coma?” I smile cheekily at him.
Tom glances over at me and laughs, his dimples creasing the sides of his cheeks.
“It was a tough job. But someone had to do it.” Tom remains staring toward the ceiling.
He rolls over towards me so that we are now facing each other. I notice that his torso is naked. His broad shoulders shadow me from the sun radiating through the window behind him. I can feel the heat of his body so close to mine, the feeling sends a shot of electricity up my spine.
“So… I’ve been to a few breakfast places around Bondi, but I’m sure you know that one elusive little hole-in-the-wall café that does the best breakfast right?” Tom again cuts into my thoughts.
“Um… if you hadn’t noticed, breakfasts are kind of a big deal around Bondi. It’s as bad as lining up for one of the top nightclubs. Some places have half hour waits just for a table. So if I were to know an amazing hole-in-the-wall café, then so would everyone else unfortunately. There is just two of us though, so we shouldn’t have a problem getting a table somewhere. How about you be my tour guide and take me to your favourite place this morning? I haven’t had breakfast out for a while… occupational hazard you know!” Tom laughs at my attempt at a joke. I don’t know if he’s just being kind or he actually finds me funny.
“Well I have managed to find that most of the decent breakfast places are away from the beach… and the tourists.” Tom adds, “So I will take you to my local.”
Tom rolls out of his side of the bed and glides like a toy slinky towards the en-suite wearing nothing but a pair of blue and white striped cotton boxer shorts. His back is strong and forms a subtle ‘V’ shape from his waist. His physique reminds me of the old movie stars of the fifties or sixties, like Marlon Brando or Rock Hudson, with their naturally strong and very masculine frames, long before the trend of bulging muscles and steroid induced gym junkies. They just don’t build men like that anymore. What I wouldn’t give to run my hands all over Tom Smythe’s strong body right now! I breath deep and close my eyes while I sink back into the pillow and feel the pull in my lower region at the very thought of touching him. I jump out of bed and make my way to the main bathroom.
When Tom finally reappears from the bedroom, I too have showered and wait patiently out on the terrace.
“You are very efficient Miranda.”
I’m dressed back in my red skinny jeans and the white t-shirt that he purchased for me the night before. I’ve put on my emergency black flip flops that I always keep in my suitcase. I decided that rolling the legs of the jeans up will give myself a bit more of a daytime look. I also have my hair in a high bun, the way I usually wear it when I’m not working. Tom has on a pair of olive green pants that taper in at the bottom with a red and white striped v neck t-shirt, showing off a hint of his athletic chest underneath. He very much suits the Bondi area in his semi hipster attire. I just want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him wildly. It takes every inch of restraint within me not to do so. Why does he have to make this so difficult when he booked me… a hooker… a sex worker!
“Ready then?”
He looks up at me when he’s finished tying the laces of his dark blue cons. The incessant pounding inside my head from way too much sangria last night ensures that I’m lost for words around Tom this morning. All I can conjure up is a nod to signify a ‘yes’. Tom smiles and turns toward the entrance to the penthouse. I struggle to keep up. Breakfast is really the last thing I feel like this morning. I slide my sunglasses over my red eyes before I have even stepped inside the elevator.
“Yes… I am a little dusty this morning Tom.” I say to his noticeable snicker at me wearing sunglasses inside,
“I told you… I don’t usually drink that much.”
After our delicious breakfast at the café, Bondi Picnic, Tom follows me to the car park where Ben should be waiting for me in the Range Rover. I find it difficult to want to say goodbye to Tom when we return briefly to the penthouse, to collect my luggage. Again, I’m left with the feeling of wondering when I’m going to see this client that I’ve also become so fond of. I’ve had such a great night with Tom, a night unlike most bookings that I have to endure. I can’t remember the last time I’ve spent a night with a man without even laying a finger on him. If it wasn’t for the constant thumping inside my head at this moment, I would probably be sadder about leaving. Instead, I’m actually thankful for the hangover for once, and can only think of the comfort of my own bed at home.
“So I will call the Agency and book you again soon if you don’t mind Miranda? I really enjoyed your company last night… and this morning. You help take my mind off of a lot of things.” Tom finally speaks just before the elevator reaches its destination at the basement garage.
“Oh… I’m actually going to be away for a month. As soon as I’m back I will get Miss Stephanie to notify you.” Tom looks a little disappointed at my announcement.
“I hope you’re doing something nice with your time off?”
“Time off in itself is something nice.” I smile and slide into the open door of the Range Rover and onto the back seat while Ben takes my suitcase.
Tom leans in the door and places a soft kiss on my cheek. I lose my breath for a moment and crave him to just kiss me passionately on the lips, like every other man wants to. He shuts the door and smiles his dazzling smile, causing my heart to skip a beat again. I smile and feel myself blush at the embarrassment of being so attracted to him. I wave back and sigh as we pull away. If only…
CHAPTER 9
The key to the front door of my apartment sings a familiar welcome home tune, as it squeaks into the lock. Flossy also comes bounding down the stairs, to the front of my apartment, and joins the welcome home party with a flurry of meows. I stumble over the top of her eager smooching around my ankles, my hangover still incapacitating me from functioning properly.
“I know Flossy. I missed you too my baby. Just let me get in the door.”
I’m glad someone in this world misses me. Shutting the door behind me, I decide to find out who else in the universe is missing me by switching on my mobile phone for the first time in almost a week. The iPhone bleeps to life to tell me there are four voicemail messages in my message-bank service. I flop down on my eggshell blue velvet sofa, and reposition my favourite vintage cushions so that I’m comfortable and ready to listen to the messages waiting for me. Flossy leaps straight up onto my lap. Her thunderous purring vibrates throughout her entire body, an obvious sign that she’s missed me.
“There are four new messages…” The anonymous female voice informs me. Two messages are from my outrageously gay boyfriend Charlie, one from Sally to tell me Flossy was fine,
and one message from my brother Simon, telling me he’s back in the Middle East for the next three months for work. That really bites! I was hoping to see him on my time off. I dial Charlie’s number. He sounded like he was going to have a coronary if I didn’t call him back soon, “Don’t make me track you down in whatever fancy hotel your rooting in for the night, you dirty stop out.” was the last message he left on my voicemail.
“Oh! She fucking breaths!” Charlie’s high-pitched voice screeches down the phone at me.
“Hello Charlie. I’ve missed you. I have a rotten hangover. Be gentle. Can you bring me something like Barocca please?”
“What… like Barocca? Don’t you have some poor unfortunate John that can do that for you?”
“Charlie. Stop yelling. Please. Need help… I love you.” I try my best to tell my precious gay friend what he needs to hear.
“Very well. I’ll get you a hangover juice from Flat White on the way to your place.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Who fucking knows doll!” The line drops out.
I’m guessing my Charlie has just abruptly ended the call, as he always does. I struggle to press the buttons on the remote to bring my sound system to life, my arm droops back down by my side as Radiohead’s Karma Police hums from the little pyramid Bang and Olufsen speakers scattered around my apartment. The music has a medicinal potency over my fragile state of mind, and I drift off to sleep with my grey fluffy cat blissfully curled up on my lap.
“Wow doll! You look like you’ve been fucked all night… hang on… you probably have!” Charlie hovers above me, rudely ripping me from my pleasant slumber. Luckily for him, he is baring my much needed hangover drink. I will save the beheading for yet another day.